Hogwarts' Holidays and More
by FirstYear
Summary: This is going to be an on going effort. I enjoy doing little holiday stories and instead of putting them up one at a time this will be a collection. No one pairing or one character all rated k just to be safe...
1. The 4th of What?

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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**The 4th of What?**

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Ronald looked at the parchment and frowned. "I don't get it."

"It's simple Ronald. Just remember the dates. It's a quiz is all, not a real test that will effect your grade. It won't be on the O.W.L.S."

"No, not that." He looked across the table to Harry. "Thought you said it was the 5th."

"No." Hermione whispered and rolled her eyes. "That is the 5th of _May_, this is the 4th of _July_."

"Shhh," Madam Pince's warning let them know not only to quiet but also that they were here after hours by only her grace.

"The Cinco de Mayo, Ronald, and the 4th of July. Just remember the dates."

"How will I know which is which?"

"One is in Spanish, Ronald," Harry laughed, "it's a clue… you know, like they talk in Mexico."

"They talk Spanish in Spain," Ronald looked at him blankly. "I thought they spoke Mexican in Mexico."

"Right," Hermione giggled. "Like.. umm, Canadian in Canada and American in America."

"Right." Ronald turned to Harry. "See?"

"She's having you on, Ronald." Harry frowned at him then looked at Hermione and shrugged his shoulders. "You try, I give up."

"Ronald, they just want you to have some idea of the Muggle holidays. Who knows? You may be somewhere when one comes along and you'll have to be able to blend in."

"Bloody hell…" He turned the book to Harry and tapped the picture. "You think I am going to dress like this just to blend in you're bleeping crazy."

"It's like… like Guy Fawkes day, you know… it happened a long time ago."

"Good, because I won't do it." He pulled the book back and sighed. "Another 5th."

"November Ronald, not May," Hermione sighed. "Guy Fawkes is November 5th. America's Independence Day is the 4th of July."

"But it says here they signed the bloody thing on the 2nd."

"It doesn't matter Ronald, just remember the 5th of July."

"The 4th." Harry looked up from his book. "America uses the 4th of July."

"But it says right here it was signed on the 2nd of August. Why do they use the 4th of July?"

Hermione pulled the book over and read the section on America's Declaration and then looked up at him blankly.

"Got me. They voted to approve it on the 2nd, that's closer. Harry, three of their presidents died on the 4thof July years later. Adams, Jefferson and Monroe, that's strange."

"Maybe they were cursed." Ronald said seriously.

"Who would have done that?" Harry grinned.

"George of course, " Ronald popped a piece of chocolate in his mouth. "Dad's family married into the Hanover's back in the 1600's. He always said George was one of us."

"You are telling me you are related to the Hanovers?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Most pure-bloods go back far enough to be related to everyone. Dad always said with 15 kids Old George should be an honorary Weasley anyway. "

"So you are saying he cursed them … why?"

"Bloody hell, look what they did to him. Must have been right awful to lose a war to a bunch of farmers."

"Whatever, just remember the 4th of July and the fireworks."

"No, that was Fawkes," Ronald scowled.

"No, that was… Harry, he has me doing it now. Guy Fawkes is called Fireworks Night but the Americans use fireworks too."

"Ok, so just remember the date and what is called." Harry swallowed hard, all of a sudden none of the dates falling into place.

"Do you think we can have a special holiday when the war is over?" Ronald mused.

"We are not fighting for Independence, and you can't even get these straight. What would you want one more for?" Hermione hissed.

"Canada has a Freedom day. What are they free from?" Ronald tapped the list he had in front of him. "At least it's not on the 5th."

"It's called Dominion Day, not Freedom day. Only now they call it Canada Day." Hemione sighed and put her face in her hands.

"Why?" Both Harry and Ronald asked at the same time.

"Just remember the date, okay?"

"What date?" Ronald looked back at the parchment.

"The 1st of July," Hermione sighed. "And Australia day on the 26th of January."

"Don't ask." Harry grinned at Ronald. "They are just going to go and change it anyway."

"I was in Egypt when they had Revolution day." Ronald offered. "Only I don't guess that 's the same thing."

"I know I will be sorry to ask this, but when is it?" Hermione said evenly.

"July 23rd," Ronald proudly announced.

"Good, the only one you are sure of is not even on the list."

"My parents went to a dental convention in New York once. They said it was beautiful with all the boats and fireworks and all." Hermione nibbled on the end of her quill. "That was before I was born."

"Like New Years over the Thames. I used to get to see that with Dudley. I had to wait in the car so no one would mess with it, but I had a great view." Harry nodded. "I used to love fireworks."

"Bet we could get Fred and George to make fireworks for us. We could pretend to celebrate these dates." Ron held up the parchment and grinned.

"Good idea," Harry chuckled. "Ask them if they can do it next week. Right after the O.W.L.S. "

"Right," Ronald frowned. "It can be our Independence day from Umbridge."

"Yeah, bet it's great!"

Happy whatever you call it, whenever you celebrate it.


	2. Bella’s Anniversary

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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**Bella's Anniversary**

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Bellatrix sat sipping tea and tapping the butt of her wand on the table as she studied the calendar. It was time for a party. She had not been to a real party in years. Not that Narcissa didn't invite her up to Malfoy Manor whenever there was a to do, she did. They just were not the kind of parties that Bellatrix enjoyed.

She had already decided that dinner would not be sit-down and served by elves. No, Bellatrix bit the dangerous end of her wand, and thought how a banquet table could be set up in the garden. Paper lamps would sway in the breeze and music would start as soon as the first guest appeared and not after they were forced to sit through another perfect desert, severed on perfect plates, after a perfect- fucking-Narcissa-perfect meal.

She looked up as Rodolphus walked in and headed to the counter to get a cup of tea.

"I want a party," she pouted.

"Buy one, you buy everything else you want."

"Oh, be serious. I never have parties. Cissy always gets to, and I never do."

"What kind of party were you thinking of. I would not be against having a few friends over for dinner."

"I was thinking of a Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary." She smiled up at him in time to see his tea snorting out of his nose. "Go down wrong?"

"Fiftieth?" he sputtered. "We've been married twelve years."

"So? Fiftieth is Golden. I want gold."

"Bella, you can't just pick a year. If you want a party, just…. Merlin, witch… just call it the thirteenth."

"Thirteen is bad luck." She glared at him and tapped her wand harder, sending small bursts of flame up to the ceiling. "I want a Fiftieth. First I considered the seventy-fifty, but … that seems rude."

"Fine, invite them for August 3rd, thirty-seven years from now. It will give you time to clean the house."

"I am giving it in the garden. I don't need to clean. Anyway, Cissy, never cleans for parties."

"Because she has an army of elves, you have one."

"I have one?" She laid her wand down and looked at him strangely. "I don't remember an elf coming around for a long time now. I thought yours caught on fire, and that little one, you remember it? I thought Lucius killed that one."

"No, that was mine. Your elf is still recovering from the burns, but don't worry, I am sure he will be back in thirty-seven years."

"How's June?"

"Our anniver…June is fine."

"I'll need your guest list as soon as you can get it done."

"Bella, if it's your party, you make the list."

"I really don't see why I have to think of every little detail. After all it's your party too."

Rodolphus stared at her, Accioed his address book and levitated it to the table. Bellatrix picked it up and flipped through a few pages before nodding and setting it down.

"So, who are you bringing?"

"Bringing?" He swallowed hard.

"You are bringing a date, right? Cissy always says it is only proper to have an even number of guests."

"Why don't you just … You want me to bring a date? A date to our wedding anniversary? You are sure about this?"

"Do you think I need to send her an invitation, or will you just bring her?"

"Bella," he sat down at the table and laid his hand over hers. "Have you taken your medication today?"

"Of course, dear. I just thought that after being married for seventy-five years you would be too old to do anything _with_ her and it may make Lucius jealous."

"We've been married fifty… I mean twelve years."

"Oh." She looked back at his address book and scowled. "Then who the bloody hell is Ursula?"

"Bella? Where do you keep your medication?"

"In the cabinet with the rest." She continued to scowl as she watched him cross the kitchen and open the cabinet, take out her medication and pour it in her tea. She glared at him as she drank the cup empty and slammed it down.

"Are you satisfied? Just because I won't let you bring a date you think I am crazy?"

"No, dear." He poured her a second cup and added more potion.

"Next you'll be telling me that I can't bring one either."

His hand hesitated over the cup. Looking from his hand to her and back to his hand, he tipped up the vial and added more potion.

"Here you go, dear." He lifted the cup to her mouth, encouraging her to drink it all. "Now, don't you feel better?"

"No," she pouted. "Now I don't want a party."

Rodolphus sighed and put the vial back. "You know, you can still have a party. Why don't you do it, Bella? You are always saying we don't have guests, and maybe this is what you need. Something to focus on."

"What kind?"

"Well," he said cheerfully and sat down next to her. "You have a birthday coming up."

"I do not!" she hissed at him. "That was last year and I won't have any more."

"_Okay_," he looked around at the medicine cabinet wondering how much more it would take.

"I know," she giggled and slapped the table. "We can have a party like the Muggles."

He looked at her blankly.

"You know, everyone dresses up like their favourite Muggle and at the end of the night we have to guess who they are."

"Umm, their _favourite_… I don't think that would work dear."

"No, I guess not." She leaned her head on her hand. "Yaxley would dress up like Captain Hook, and Snape would be the fairy."

Rodolphus bit the inside of his lower lip, knowing all would be lost if he laughed now.

"We could have a Halloween party, but everyone does those, and I refuse, I just flat out refuse to give a party for… wait I know." She sat up straight, smiling at him. "Our anniversary."

"This is where we started, Bella. Are you sure?"

"Cissy never has them you know. I think it's because she likes to think Lucius is going to surprise her with one, and then when he doesn't she is depressed for a month. I so love her anniversary time."

"Perhaps, if you are nice to her, she will let you borrow a couple of elves."

"I don't need an elf." She stood and raised her chin. "I can, I will do this. How hard can it be?"

That Saturday she sent out invitations, using every owl she could find, and drove them to exhaustion. Over the next week almost everyone responded politely, graciously accepting her kind invitation, knowing the thinly veiled threat, should they refuse, would be carried out. Encouraged, she drew up plans and hired a catering company, a band, and even hired a crew to set up a coat and broom-check room. Rodolphus watched, not interfering, pleased that the potions seemed to be helping. As the day of the party loomed near, he noticed her becoming more excited and decided she needed a treat.

"Bella dear, I am surprised at how well you have done," he smiled down the formal dining room table at her. "I think you deserve a new dress. Something fitting for the party."

She smiled warmly, put down her fork, lowering her head. "Rodolphus, not that I don't trust your taste in such matters, but I would rather you not help. Do you understand dear?"

"I just thought it would be nice for you. I've contacted the dressmaker, and she can take a run up any time you want."

"I can go to that damned robe shop, I don't want her in my house," she hissed.

He locked his eyes on hers and frowned. "You know she won't let you in unless you are accompanied."

"She never said that."

"What part of, '_Don't you come back in here unless your husband has you on a leash', _don't you understand?"

"She was joking."

"I think not, Bella. Why not have the new dressmaker come to the house?" He smiled at her, hoping to take her mind off the shop.

"Is it the same one that does clothes for Cissy?"

"Yes," he swallowed hard.

"I don't trust her."

"I will take her wand when she is here. Will that make it better?"

"She needs her wand to measure." Bella rested her head on her hand. "Anyway, I have that dress I haven't even worn yet. You know, the one I bought for Cissy's holiday gala that she wouldn't let me go to and no one has seen yet. Well, almost no one. I don't count the guards at Azkaban."

Rodolphus nodded, and looked down at his plate, not wanting to get into this conversation with her again.

"I even promised not to curse anyone, but it's hard, you know how hard it is for me."

"I must say Bella, I didn't think you could do this, but you have surprised me. I think even your sister will be surprised that you managed everything by yourself..."

"Oh, I didn't invite Andromeda."

"I meant Narcissa." He drank his tea waiting for her to say more, surprised by her silence. "So, other than the dancing, have you planned any entertainment?"

"No," she pouted. "I think the dancing and the dunk tank should be enough."

"The…," his hand shook as the put down his cup, "you… you did say dunk … dunk tank?"

"Of course silly," she laughed at his expression. "I want to make sure that only true pure-bloods come. So, I found a delightful way to do it."

"With a dunk tank?"

"Yes, you see I remembered my history classes. Muggles used to throw witches in water, if they floated they were witches and they would be killed, if they sank they were Muggles. Of course they drowned but, they were only Muggles so that shouldn't be a problem when they die."

"You plan on throwing your guests in water?" His lip twitched.

"Just some of them. Like… well I always wondered about Yaxley's wife. I mean, come on, her name is Amanda. Amanda…what kind of name is that for a true witch?"

"She's a Black, Bella. Isn't she your third cousin or something like that? Her mother was related to your grandmother."

"She could have been gotten on the wrong side of the sheets." She nodded knowingly. "Anyway, I spelled the dunk tank to do things exactly like the Muggles would have done it. It should be fun. And don't go complaining about needing to tend it, the tank takes care of everything, even disposal."

"You have already done this?" He blanched. "Bella, we need to talk."

"Oh, Rodolphus, it's easy really. I'm going first, just to show them how it works."

"You've thought of everything it appears." He leaned back and smiled weakly, wondering how quickly the guests could clear out if the Aurors showed up. "Oh, incidentally, would you mind if Ursula came? That is if she just shows up later… after your … entrance?"

"Well, as long as she isn't here just for you. Just remember we are still married." She sneered at him.

"Till death do we part, my dear, till death do we part."


	3. Bad Mum's Birthday

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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**Bad Mum's Birthday**

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Harry pulled Lily on his lap. She should be in bed already, but tonight was supposed to be her Mum's birthday party. Not like a real party, not really, not like they would have on Thursday night at the Leaky Cauldron where every one would come and eat too much. This was the party Lily liked, the one where her and Daddy would make the cake, turn off all the lights until Mum came home, and then surprise her with handwritten cards from Jay-Jay and Al.

Tonight, Ginny had gone shopping with Aunt Hermione, and was late. The shops would be closing soon so Daddy had let her stay up to wait. She leaned against his shoulder and yawned, her head turned towards the door watching for her Mum to come home.

"She'll be home soon enough, Button," Harry grinned down at her. "You know how your Mum is once she is in the robe shop."

"It's chocolate inside too." She looked up at Harry, her brow wrinkling. "Maybe we should test it. You know, just in case."

"Test a cake? No, I think if you have waited this long, a little longer won't hurt," he chuckled. "I remember the first birthday cake I ever got. Hagrid sat on it. You remember who Hagrid is?"

She nodded and sat up straighter. "Tell me a story."

"What kind of story?"

"You know. The kind your Daddy told you. A Muggle story."

Harry licked his lips and looked around the room uncomfortably. "How about I tell you a Muggle Fairy Tale?"

"Muggles have fairies?"

"No, but they have some pretty good stories."

" 'bout fairies?"

"No," he grinned and pulled her head down to his shoulders. "There is one all Muggle kids know. It's called Goldie Locks and the Three Bears."

"Who?"

"Once upon a time, long ago," Harry rested his head against the back of the chair, glancing at the clock, "there was a little girl named Goldie Locks…"

"Like that funny teacher Mum told me about?"

"No, that was someone else … you have to be quiet if you want to hear this." He waited until her head hit his shoulder again. "Anyway, one morning she decided to go for a walk in the woods."

"Bet she gets sent to her room."

"Lily?" he cautioned. "In the woods there lived three bears. A Daddy bear, a Mummy bear, and a wee-little baby bear. One morning while they were eating breakfast, the Daddy bear said … "This porridge is too hot" and the …."

"Bears don't eat porridge."

"Do you want to hear this or not?" Again, he waited until her head dropped and continued the story. "Okay, so they all went for a walk while the porridge cooled, when along came Goldie Locks and went into their house."

"Daddy," she sat up and frowned at him. "When do the fairies come?"

"There are no fairies in this."

"I thought you said it was a fairy tale?" She frowned.

"No, in this story the bears are … ummm … like people."

"Did they ward the house?"

"How about a different story?"

"Do you like this one?" she looked at him strangely.

"No," Harry admitted. "There is one about a wolf and three pigs."

"A werewolf?" she whispered, her eyes growing large.

"No, just a wolf," Harry sighed. "But he tries to eat the pigs."

"We eat pigs. Grandpa said ham is a pig's bum."

"How about one about a Princess, with really long hair, that is put in a tower by the evil witch?"

"If she is evil why didn't she kill her?"

"I don't know," Harry took of his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But she had really long hair. She could lower it out of the tower and …"

"Uncle Teddy can do that," she grinned.

"Do what?"

"Make his hair grow. Saw him in Diagon with long hair," she nodded. "He had on a funny dress too, and he was with a really good friend. Mum said he was going to a Halloween Party, but she just didn't want me to know."

"Know?" He swallowed hard.

"Yeah, he's happy."

"Oh," he looked at the clock wishing Ginny were home. "Okay, how about you tell me what story you want?"

"Are you happy?"

"Happy?" he squeaked. "Yeah, I am happy, happy … but not Uncle Teddy happy. Now what kind of story do you want?"

"An Uncle Teddy story," she snuggled her head down on his shoulder and sighed. "If Muggles can have fairy stories, Uncle Teddy can have a story because Jay-Jay says he's a fairy too."

Harry stood up quickly, almost dumping Lily on the floor. "I think we need to test that cake."

Lily jumped up and ran to the kitchen, climbed on to the chair and leaned on the table, inhaling the sweet chocolate smell. "You make good cake Daddy."

"It's a mix, but yeah, it did come out pretty good, even if I do say so myself."

"Mum's bad. She should be sent to her room."

"She is late, Button. Not bad," he grinned, took a knife from the drawer and reached up to take down a couple of plates. "You get the forks."

He turned and watched her scamper to do as he asked as he levitated what he held in his hands to the table and then took down two glasses and collected a bottle of milk.

"You have to drink milk with chocolate cake," he grinned.

"Al likes it with butterbeer best." She watched as his hand paused over the cake and his grip tightened on the knife's handle.

"Does he now?"

"Yup, Mum says at least it's not your fire whiskey." She nodded and reached out a finger to taste the icing.

"Bad Mum," he muttered as he lifted a piece of cake on Lily's plate.

"You peeked!"

"Peeked at what?" He paused with the second piece of cake held in the air over his plate.

"Mum's birthday present."

"What present?" Harry asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"She's got her own present. It's in a box under your bed. But she said not to show you."

"Show me what? Just tell me. That way you won't be breaking your promise."

"She got these shoes, with really- really big heels and this red thing that looks like a slip but really-really short and she said that she bought it because you like her to look like a bad mum."

Harry swallowed hard and looked at the clock. "Right, now finish your cake and off to bed with you."

"No, I want to wait up for Mum," she pouted.

"No, Mum's going to be bad. Very-very bad," he grinned.

"Ah, I'm telling," Lily whispered. "I'm telling you called her Bad Mum."

Harry ginned and nodded. "Me first."

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**A/N: Belated Happy Birthday to Bad Mum**


	4. Snape’s Last Christmas

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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**Written for the Sober Universe's "Christmas Card Challenge"

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**Snape's Last Christmas

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Snape stood at the window looking out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. It was quiet now. The students having gone home for the holidays and even the Carrows had left to spend time with their families. He knew it would be a brief respite before the students and staff members once again faced each other and he would once again try to head off the Carrow's darker appetites for torture and punishment, but for tonight, for a few hours, he could relax.

He sighed and slowly walked back to this desk, thinking of Christmas Eve's past. This was the first time he could remember Minerva leaving the castle at this time of year and felt a longing for their annual fireside chat, sharing a bottle of Ogden's finest and reminiscing over the past year. He briefly wondered if she did as well.

Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a sheet of parchment, and then dipped his quill into the inkpot. He hesitated, his hand poised ready to write, but his mind blank, unable to think how to begin.

"It is not like you to be unsure," Dumbledore said from his portrait.

"I brought your picture back only with your expressed promise not to talk," Severus said as he glared at Albus' image on the wall opposite his desk. "Unless you want to spend the evening with Myrtle I would suggest you honour that promise."

"She is confused as to her feeling for you as well," Albus mused.

"And whose fault would that be old man?" Knowing, without asking, that they were speaking of Minerva.

"It had to be done. However, even I am surprised you have taken my position here. I had hoped Minerva would have acquired it, leaving you free for more important endeavours."

"That's it you old fool." Severus stormed over to the portrait and lifted it off the wall. "If I had a choice in the matter it would not be I that sat here."

He held the picture by the corner of the frame, letting it drag on the floor as he strode to the door, opened it, and flung a protesting Albus into the hallway. With a smirk, he turned back to the desk and resumed what he had started.

_Minerva, _he wrote then scowled and grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment to start again.

.

.

_Professor McGonagall;_

_It has come to my attention that the former Headmaster is currently in need of somewhere to reside, as I will no longer tolerate his presence at Hogwarts. I suggest you retrieve this object as soon as possible to avoid its inevitable destruction. _

_In keeping with the season, I wish you a Happy Christmas. _

_Sincerely_

_SS_

_._

_._

He rolled the parchment and tied a string around it before summoning an owl for a late night delivery. As he watched the bird fly off into the cold darkness he thought again of Christmases past and how his mother would try to prepare a holiday meal with what meagre funds she had, always managing to put at least one special dish on the table.

Taking out a bottle of Ogden's Finest and two glasses from his liquor cabinet, he set them on his desk, and then contacted the kitchen elf to bring a midnight snack for two. Sitting back at his desk, he waited, knowing Minerva would come and he would spend what he felt was his last Christmas Eve with an old friend.


	5. A Sunny Day In Late September

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

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**My goodness…has it been a year? Written for another one of Bad Mum's 29****th**** year birthdays. **

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**A Sunny Day in Late September**

**(When Charlie Should Have Wished For Rain)**

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Charlie leaned against the back of the shed, his hands shoved in his pockets; his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Beside him, Nymphadora slumped against the same wall, her arms folded over her chest and a pout on her face. Neither talked to the other, both too stubborn to be the first to admit they had mucked up.

It had started innocently enough. Charlie's mother had a birthday looming near and in a moment of weakness an ill-conceived idea had found its way to Charlie's brain and would not let go. After contemplating, for all of three minutes, he decided to have a surprise party for her. A small affair, just the family gathered around the table, a simple cake, perhaps a punch.

He snorted in disgust, shooting Nymphadora a look of utter contempt for he knew now that it had been when he had mentioned it to her that everything had started to spin out of control and gain momentum. Not only had she embraced the idea, turning a simple party into a grandiose dinner with the entire Weasley clan and extended family, she had gleefully included her family as well. Not that there were that many that she considered presentable in polite society, but the handful she did have, were to come. Then, just to fill in the seating chart she had invited the entire Order and all of Molly's friends.

He turned his head and glared at her, wanting to tell her it was her leaving the guest list where Molly could find it that started the debacle, but too angry to speak first he let his look tell the tale. He saw Nymphadora lift her chin and narrow her eyes, waiting for him to be the first to toss out an accusation and clamped his mouth shut, turning back to watch the gnomes destroy the garden.

It had not been enough that they had tried to hide the fact that they planned to feed a hundred guests, but that they had planned to keep it a secret from Molly. Charlie would always say that this was where it had started to deteriorate. If that were possible, for it was already bad. He had been too slow to see it and Nymphadora too caught up in the excitement of flowers and decorations to care.

Nymphadora had taken a collection from the other Weasley children, threatening the twins with bodily harm if they did not bear the brunt of the cost for the simple menu and even had made Ronald throw in his pocket money, much to his chagrin and Percy's delight. Of course, the one high point that Charlie would always remember, and share at Sunday dinners with anyone willing to listen, well into the next decade, was the look of abject horror on Percy's face when presented with the bakery bill for the cake.

The cake was indeed to be a thing of beauty and wonder. That is before Molly found the receipt in Percy's pocket while doing the laundry and went to the bakery to see the three-tiered monstrosity. She did what any mother would have done in a similar situation. She imposed her decorating taste and changed everything from the colour of the icing to the flowers that would tumble, now, gracefully down one side. Dabbing her eyes she had silently paid for the changes and happily kept the secret, informing the baker that if he dared say a word she would hex off his nads.

Not, you understand, that she did not hint that she knew. Yes she did, of course she did. Little hints…like…_What ever shall we do with that old tent? I do hate to see it sit unused. Perhaps we should put it up…you know…in case it rains this Sunday. _Since the party was not scheduled until the following Saturday it was lost on Charlie, as he was not one to pay attention to details. Furthermore, the fact that she had Ginny and Arthur scrubbing down the walls and floors did not seem out of place or even slightly strange.

Nymphadora thought the tent was a wonderful idea. It was large enough for what she wanted, with room to spare. After all, it had been used in the past for weddings and family reunions, so a simple birthday party should fit just fine. Until that very moment, she had not thought of music. One more thing they would blame on Molly in the years to come, for if it had not been for the tent there would not have been a band. The farthest thing from Nymphadora's mind had been live music and dancing. However, looking at the tent go up she thought…well, why ever not?

Molly liked to dance. She had said often enough that she wished to dance at her children's weddings, and her foot would tap to whatever music was in the air, even that awful stuff Arthur put on the old Muggle crank up record player. Charlie had frowned, counted out more money from his vault, agreeing with everything but the cost, and then told Bill this was his contribution and forced him to hire the musicians.

Overall, things ran pretty smoothly. The caterer was a little surprised to see Molly waiting at the door one morning as he opened. She went over menus and demanded that he supply waiters, not the simple buffet that had been planned. However, he was quite used to over protective mothers and gave in to her suggestions, keeping within the cost that had been laid out, charging only for the wine and spirits that were added and a small surcharge for the additional help.

Even the weather played into their hands, the sun rising on a beautiful warm sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. Molly was up early, preparing to be surprised, waiting anxiously for the festivities to begin, making Arthur put on his dress robes and the boys wash behind their ears. Molly dabbed at her eyes and set up her camera, not wanting to miss moment as she cursed herself for not hiring a photographer.

"Mum Weasley?" Nymphadora had said, her voice muffled as Molly pulled her head into her bosom sobbing aloud when she arrived. "I didn't think you would be quite so….so emotional over it all. Who gave up the surprise?"

"It matters not, what matters, is that you and Charlie did this for me. Now…come, dear." Molly pulled her up the stairs, waiting while Nymphadora untangled her sleeve from the banister, and into her bedroom, picking up her old wedding dress from the bed and holding it out to Nymphadora. "Just this one last thing and I can die happy. What a wonderful surprise. A wedding at the Burrow!"

Now she and Charlie hid behind the shed, listening to Molly's diminishing wails of anguish and the twin's uproarious laughter. Neither wanted to be the first to talk, as if in doing so, they would be admitting their responsibility in the fiasco. That, and it was their unspoken resolve to hide from the parson until he ate his fill and left. Once the yard grew quiet, and it was obvious that the party was not going as well they hoped, Nymphadora began to snicker.

"It's your fault you know," she said in that brazen way she had that always made Charlie cringe, knowing she had another half baked idea just below the surface.

"Don't you dare," Charlie said darkly, settling his chin on his chest and thinking about kicking gnomes. "You're the one who did the planning."

"It was your idea!" she hissed at him. "You got it all wrong."

"What the bloody hell did I get wrong?" He asked incredulously.

'Her birthday is in October. Today is only the 24th of September. No wonder she got it wrong."

"What?" he asked, his head snapping to the side in time to see her swallow her smile and try to look contrite.

"We can just have just the family, you know, just a small affair next time. A cake and perhaps a punch." She bit her lower lip and glanced at him, quickly looking back towards the garden. "Do we get to keep the presents?"

Charlie brought his head up slowly and turned to look at her fully, his face a study in surprise. "Listen, Tonks…"

"Got ya! Kidding. I was just kidding." She grinned, standing on her toes and kissing him lightly. "We'll let your mum do it."


End file.
